


Truthiness and Bakery

by SeldomNite (IndelibleSpock)



Category: Fake News, Fake News FPF
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:09:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4516107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndelibleSpock/pseuds/SeldomNite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon says Stephen isn't useful around the house. Stephen goes overboard and starts a show like Martha Stewart's to prove that he is wrong. </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Idea

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very crack idea, all started with me watching three hours of Martha Stewart and wishing Stephen would go back on the show only then to think about him having his own show. 
> 
> Originally posted to fakenews fanfiction on LJ

 

A very wary Colbert looked at the empty chairs in the audience. This was his first time doing something other than yell about politicians. Yes, there was that foray with those feminists, but that was apple pie. EVERYONE should know how to make apple pie! The only exception being babies and small children, if you didn't know how to make apple pie, you weren't an American.

"This is it," he grinned as he heard some of his staff members walk onto set. They were preparing the safety measures all along while listening to Colbert rehearse. It was a cooking and crafts show, but he also wanted to keep in touch with his nation, The Colbert Nation, so he crafted some lovely jokes to go with the day's topic.

"Nation," he cried at the camera, "it has come to my attention that some people, namely Jon Stewart, think that I am of no use in the kitchen and around the house. Well you just see about that, Mr-I-Can't-Even-Make-Grilled-Cheese-Without-Burning-It! Not only can I nail the main stream media and those science loving homoerotic Nazis down at NASA, but I can nail a good hard piece of metal into maple wood. Nation, just like my other show, I will only proceed to tell you MY truth, only this time with crafts and cooking. THIS! Is The Stephen Colbert Show."

Two months prior, Stephen had almost burned down his house trying to make chocolate cupcakes for Jon. Luckily, Jon had been visiting and decided that once and for all, Stephen needed some safety precautions. That included the fire extinguisher Jon had used to contain the fire to the stove. Why Stephen was using the stove, Jon had no idea.

"I don't get it," he frowned, "you don't even need the stove!"

"Well JON, all I was told was that I needed to put in the dry ingredients first! I knew nothing about what that little warning light meant!"

Jon sighed and dropped the fire extinguisher to the floor. "You're absolutely hopeless. I still can't figure out how you make it on your own."

"I have sla-highly paid legal immigrants that do this stuff for me. I only tried making cupcakes for you because you're my pal."

Stephen Colbert then said that he was willing to show that schmuck that he Could cook, that he Could sew and build furniture and decorate, that he could do all those things but chose not to because he could only undermine his masculinity twice a year and get a manicure (and sometimes a pedicure as well).

Those two months the man had spent working on his current show and on his new show, which sadly enough, the only man who would put his money into it was Jon himself. Okay, so another show that Stephen got was in the hands of Jon. He didn't mind, he didn't mind at all, he only cared when he learned that his new show couldn't be on The Hallmark Channel with the likes of the one and only Martha Stewart.

"What do you mean I can't be on that channel!?"

Jon threw a stack of papers at Stephen. They were in Stephens office, a place he should be very well calm in, but Jon saw that look in his eyes. Wild fury with a dash of fright. "You are too much of a liability. They see what you do on this show and think that you'll ruin their good values."

"That's hardly fair!"

"It's plenty fair. Hallmark actually pretends to care. Networks like this one don't. Now, one channel would love to have you. I said yes," he held his hand up as Stephen started to stand, "and before you can say anything, you'll be able to swear on your show all you want." He shuffled through the papers he threw onto Stephen's desk. You have a photo shoot tomorrow at eight. Dress nice, these will be for promos."

He got to the studio two hours before his scheduled appointment. He insisted that the makeup people had to work extra hard to sculpt his hair into the right looking coif that would highlight his forehead and his cheekbones and not to mention make it stay in its place. There was a reason his hairdresser was paid more than the writing staff.

The photographer knew what he was doing and Stephen thought he knew what he was doing as well. But when the man holding the camera was starting to look frustrated, Stephen took it as a personal insult. "I'm sorry I can't please you!"

The man was stunned. "No...I...you need to stop looking so serious and angry. No snark either. It's a cooking and crafts show, right? Maybe show hospitality?"

"What the hell is hospitality?"

He could not believe that Stephen Colbert had no idea what hospitality was. Nor could he believe that the rumors he heard was true. Of course he's encountered some pretty self-indulged people before, but never to this scale. He thought it was just a character he played in front of the cameras.

"Mr. Colbert, you need to look happy, like you're inviting someone you care for deeply. I want you to visualize opening the front door to your home and picture the one person that makes you truly happy standing on the welcome mat."

Stephen pictured Jon instantly, but he couldn't admit that to himself. Jon was just his best friend. He was nothing like Charlene.

Because Jon actually cared about the flowers.

"We can still have one angry picture, right? My nation loves seeing my serious side."

"Mr. Colbert, I was only told what kind of photos to take. The rest is marketing's decision."

Stephen Colbert never loses a battle with marketing.

  
  
  


As the days went by, more and more of the news media was talking about Colbert's endeavor. They all laughed. No one invited him onto their shows to talk about it. It seemed to be a giant joke to them.

Stephen wasn't upset, he was overjoyed. He was too busy practicing his cooking and sewing to be in the limelight anyway. He made cookies for the interns; not knowing they were thrown out without being tasted. He made a cute little dress for his assistant's daughter.

Okay, he bought the dress at J Crew and sewed on a bow and frills at the bottom. But he Knew how to make a sewing machine work. He even learned how to thread the needle. Stephen was learning more about homemaking than he learned about politics during the six years he invested with The Colbert Report.

It made some of the writers question his interests.

"I just think he's more in tune with his feminine side than he ever was with his masculine side. He takes making pumpkin bread more seriously than Obama and his approval ratings."

The rest of the writers looked Eric in the eye and said collectively, "have you HAD his pumpkin bread?"

He shook his head slowly, "should I be worried?"

"It's better than anything my own mother made," Jon quipped as he walked into the room. "Just a little drop-in from the producer. I hope you guys aren't too stressed since Stephen came up with this idea to prove me wrong."

Eric smirked, "no, we just hate you."  



	2. The Premiere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stephen Colbert Show premieres, and it goes...it just goes.

He spoke with a most confident grandeur. “Nation, today is when cooking turns away from the homemaking women and the prancy fancy gays. Even the manliest men in America can make soufflés without having to be accused of being gay.” He turned to the wings of the set and stared at the Ghost of the Ghost of Bobby, who was his stage manager for this show as well, “HEAR THAT BOBBY! I’M NOT GAY!”

The audience cheered. All those seats, all those eyes looking at him, those hopeful eyes to learn something from their leader, something different, all filled with joy as Stephen Colbert took his place behind a kitchen counter. It was adorned with eagles carved into the sides, with the most lush looking granite top. Only the most expensive for Stephen Colbert.

He blew kisses to his fangirls, that twinkle in his eyes appeared when two guys in the back started chanting his name. Soon the whole audience was cheering just like at his old show. Smiling he gestured for them to stop which they did, as any organized mob would. This show was going to be less about cheering, “Stephen Colbert” and more about cheering Stephen Colbert’s food and crafts.

“Why thank you everyone,” he laughed as he caught Jon sitting down near the stage as well. “Today I’m going to start with a traditional favorite, apple pie. Veteran viewers of my other show might remember when I made the same pie and ended up in a freaky ice cream three-way. That,” he put special emphasis on the word, “will not happen tonight because I am knowledgeable about the product I am making.”

Stephen didn’t want to make the apple pie. He really wanted to make blueberry muffins, Jon’s favorite. But when he suggested that to his kitchen staff, they gulped in fear and said that shows like these always start with the hosts most experienced dishes. So Stephen compromised on the matter, after throwing a ten minute tantrum in the hallway.

Stephen pulled out a couple of bowls filled with ingredients and eyed Jon. “JON! You should come help me, since you’ve never made apple pie.”

Jon shuffled his way to the stage and glanced at Stephen. He was wearing a pristine suit (A grey suit with white pinstripes and a pink shirt with a grey stripped tie), and an apron with a tie printed on the fabric. Jon even noticed a pair of oven mitts with cuff links on them.

“How do you know I’ve never made apple pie?” he huffed as he washed his hands and approached the center counter.

“Oh, I asked your wife,” there was chuckling from the audience, “I GUESS we should have a welcome applause for my Jew friend,” Stephen rolled his eyes as the audience laughed and cheered as Jon side-eyed Stephen.

“So what do we do first?”

“Make the crust! Jon, did you know that the number one rule in all of cooking is dry ingredients first?”

He sighed. This was finally Stephen’s chance to be top dog around Jon. Stephen was going to try any way possible to be better, to look better to sound better than his old boss. Jon wanted to go with it, but he couldn’t help having fun with the man.  
“Did Bobby tell you that?”

“Jon, I’m appalled. I learned that. I learned it all on my lonesome while forcing my interns to dictate cooking tips from those books in my office last Saturday.”

There was a chuckle from the audience. They were happy to know the same Stephen was in front of them. The segment with Jon went on without any trouble. Although Stephen forgot the one rule about pie crust: it must always be prepared cold.

So it didn’t turn out the way he liked. Stephen swore under his breath and clamped his hands down on the edges of the counter and took a few deep breaths. “Calm down ColberT, it’s just some stupid fucking crust. Learn from your mistakes. LEARN. We premade a crust anyway. Embrace Martha.”  
He stood up straight and threw his head back and lifted his arms out to his sides and let the warmth of the stage lights warm his eyelids. The audience was cheering him on, Jon was grimacing, hoping he wasn’t going to have a mental breakdown just because the pie crust wasn’t good. Stephen opened his eyes and dropped his arms. Looking at the camera, he smiled and took joy once more in the effort he was putting in. Jon bent down and grabbed a pie tin with the crust perfectly cut and a bowl of precut apples. He sat them on the counter and waited for any more instructions.

“Apples!” he raged, “there’s too many damn kinds of apples to make and not to make apple pie with. I wanted to use the apple that are indigenous to America to make the pie as patriotic as possible, but the kitchen staff yelled at me. They said crab apples aren’t safe to eat! In which I replied that was a bunch of bullshit, but then they called in a professional and he yelled at me to not use them. So we’re using what is known in the cooking bizz as a firm apple: Gala. And some York Imperials and because it makes perfect sense, Pippin! It’s like they know!”

“Stephen, that apple was not named for or after Peregrin Took. Calm down,” Bobby sighed into his microphone.

Stephen glared and started shouting, “Bobby, this is MY cooking show, NOT yours! It’s MY job not YOURS to tell my cooking Nation about apples and why the…the fuck they’re named the names they’re giving!” He turned to the camera and gave it the most dazzling Colbert Smile he could muster up, “well, it IS HBO.”

He threw a tantrum when the apples fell out of the pie crust and on to the bottom of the oven causing a fire. He calmed back down when Meg brought out ice cream, but grew upset once more when she said no to his offer of eating said ice cream off her chest.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best cooking show. Martha Stewart watched it out of curiosity and laughed, saying it was a nice try. Gordan Ramsy just about threw his tv out his living room window and Paula Deen smiled and told a few reporters that at least he had compassion for cooking and that’s all that needs to be focused on.

Stephen read the reviews, saw the reports with his competition’s reactions and shut himself in his office for two days. He’d come into work and straight for the room he would go.

Jon was worried about his friend. In an attempt to prove him wrong, Stephen just made an ass out of himself, more than normal. He sat in his office and thought of a way to make it up to him. Perhaps a trip up north to go eagle watching? Jon laughed at the thought of Stephen bundling up for the winter cold, standing out on the lake’s shore to watch America’s national bird hunting food for its family.  
Jon called the resort in which he wanted to take Stephen. They gave cruises across the lake, and the town it was in was known for its hospitality and beautiful Christmas lights show. He was put on hold when Jon opened the community refrigerator and behind the joke latkes and John’s horrible smelling mince pie sat Stephen’s apple pie. The pie he made on his first and only show. It looked grotesque. The crust was burnt and blotchy with different browns and blacks, and the crust was too crumbly. It didn’t even look like a pie. Jon would have thought different of it that day if he didn’t forget his lunch from home, or promised himself that he’d stop going to the deli every day.

He grabbed the pie container and brought it to his office. The top flipped over as he sat down on the sofa. “I better not die because I ate this,” he thought.

Jon took a bite and smiled. It wasn’t bad. It was fantastic. It was incredibly good. He took a few moments to finish off a slice before pulling out his iPhone once again. “Stephen really needs to know about this.”

Stephen was sulking in his office when heard the familiar tones of Jon’s ringtone. “Wanna mock me cause I can’t cook!? You won, I get it!” he greeted.

“There was nothing to be won. You got it in your head that you needed to win. But I just wanted to call. I tried the pie you made.”

“OH GREAT” he wailed, “you called to tell me how bad it is?! You heartless bastard!”

“No! Stephen, your pie is fantastic. It’s really good.”

“Stop making fun of me.”

“I’m gonna come over there and force you to eat this pie. Force you.” Jon hung up and shrugged on his jacket.

Stephen whined when there was a knock at the door. Jon took that as a “come in” and so he did. He opened the door slowly and saw Stephen sitting behind his desk, hiding his face in the crook of his arm, using a binder for a pillow.

“Stephen,” his tone was stern, but he smiled, holding out the pie. “Please try it. For me?”

He groaned and sat up, “Jon. This is my meditation time. I don’t need you clamoring about my office handing me things that are obviously going to kill-“

Jon shoved a bite of pie into Stephen’s mouth. “It’s good isn’t it?”

Stephen chewed and nodded. “Okay, it is good,” he pouted and whined, “but you didn’t hafta assault me with a plastic fork! Those things are just as deadly as the gays!”

He laughed and took another bite at Stephen’s expense. “It looks like shit, but god damn Stephen Colbert can bake an amazing pie.”


End file.
